


the Manslab

by bestliars



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Minnesota Wild, Objectification, Poor Life Choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 03:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3472694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestliars/pseuds/bestliars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But what if they fuck? It’s not like it would make things worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the Manslab

**Author's Note:**

> this was Clair’s idea, it isn’t my fault. She also beta read it. I love her so much. She’s the greatest.

Marco’s suspended, watching from the pressbox as the manslab scores his first goal against the Sharks. Fuck — as Folin scores his first goal against the Sharks. Marco really can’t keep calling him that. It’s a bad nickname that he never should have started, even if it’s just in his head.

Folin is his teammate, maybe even a friend eventually, not just a piece of meat, even if that’s what he looks like. He’s back from Iowa, and it seems like he’s sticking around. He’s a rookie, but he came from college. He isn’t a kid, he’s less than a year younger than Marco. And now he’s scored his first goal — maybe Marco and him should fuck? 

That’s a terrible idea. A really terrible idea. But Marco’s been into terrible ideas lately, like the hit on Martin, and the hit on Oshie, and like ten thousand other things, none of which will be improved by letting Christian Folin fuck him. But hey. These things pile up, and like… Marco can just sit here, and watch this hockey game that he doesn’t get to play in, and hope for the best. Folin scored his first NHL goal, and it’s tied, and maybe things are turning around.

Or maybe not.

It’s tied for less than a minute. The Sharks get another one, get the lead back, and that’s it. They lose, and there isn’t anything Marco can do from up here. There isn’t anything Marco can do about anything. He can’t even help next time, he’s still suspended for another game.

It totally wouldn’t hurt anything if he lets the manslab fuck him. 

The thing is, Manslab has a hell of a dick. He’s really solid, and has a very big dick, and Marco knows this is a bad idea, but he’s into it.

It isn’t the worst idea in the world.

Marco’s done stupider shit, almost certainly.

Manslab scored his first goal, and Marco wants Manslab to fuck him, and it’s like, a perfect storm, or at least a half-decent excuse, which is enough. 

They land in Arizona, and now Marco just needs to get Folin into his room. If he gets the manslab alone, he can probably get laid. 

They’ve got rooms in the same direction from the elevator. That makes it easy for Marco to pull Christian inside with him, spouting some line about celebrating his first goal. That is what they’re doing, sort of.

Maybe this will be a new initiation. He can hook up with all the new defensemen after they score their first goals. All the semi hot ones anyway. Maybe Ollie will grow into that face before he makes the show.

Marco scored his first goal in the season opener, his second year in the league. Afterwards the whole team went out, and he slept over at Spurg’s because he couldn’t drive home. In the morning Spurg made them half burnt celebration pancakes, and they were delicious. Maybe he’ll have to get manslab some pancakes in the morning. He doesn’t think he’s gonna want to talk to manslab in the morning. Maybe he could have room service send manslab some. That would seem more like a dumb-ass prank than anything meaningful. Marco likes the sound of that.

Tonight he has to fake meaning, and invent ceremony. He goes into the minibar, splits a little bottle into two cups, and makes a toast.

“To your first goal, and many more to come,” he says, raising his glass.

Manslab smiles, which doesn’t suddenly make him attractive, but does help. He lost a tooth at the start of the season and hasn’t done anything to fix it yet. He looks like a hockey player, in the mouth, and all over: so fucking solid.

“I’ll drink to that,” Christian says. Their glasses clink.

Marco downs the liquor — he should have cut it with something, but they aren’t gonna sit around sipping their drinks. It isn’t enough to have any effect, it’s just setting the mood. 

“So, I was thinking, first goal, that’s pretty impressive, you should have something nice tonight.”

“Yeah?” Christian says, pitched low, his accent hardly noticeable in such a small word.

“Yeah.” Marco is gonna fucking go for it, reason be damned. Why shouldn’t he get what he wants? Common sense? Fuck that. “You could fuck me, if you wanted to.”

That sure isn’t anything Marco thought he’d wind up saying today, but he isn’t all that surprised. Sometimes there’s just a proposition that has to be made. Well, _has to_ might be too strong. Sometimes there’s a proposition to be made, and nothing stopping him from making it.

Christian seems a little bit stunned. The manslab’s standing next to the bed, with his mouth a little bit open, an empty glass in one hand. Maybe Marco broke him? Hopefully not. He still has another game of his suspension to serve, meaning they’re already down a defenseman. It would be bad if he broke the manslab.

“No pressure or whatever,” He says. “It’s cool if you’re not interested, I just wanted to put it on the table.”

Maybe it’s better if they don’t. Probably. Almost certainly. Hopefully just bringing it up didn’t do any serious damage, but who knows. Marco doesn’t usually get that lucky.

Marco gets startled out of considering the worst case scenarios when the manslab clears his throat. Marco looks up from the floor to look Christian in the eye, as he says “Yeah, that sounds alright.”

Oh thank god. Everything isn’t ruined — yet. And hey, he’s going to get laid! Good fucking night.

The next few steps feel like falling. They don’t talk about it, words would only make a mess. But they still come to a conclusion — the manslab’s gonna fuck him, but Marco’s still the boss of what’s going on. He’s not the rookie here.

They don’t talk about it, but they wind up in bed, which is the right place to be.

Marco doesn’t know how much experience Manslab has with guys. He isn’t exactly shying away from grinding their dicks together, but everyone’s still got their pants on. It’s not all that much. They aren’t kissing, because that’s not what this is, so Marco can’t tell if the manslab would be weird about his beard. Maybe Marco should rub it on Manslab’s thighs to find out? That could be fun?

Marco really wants Manslab to fuck him, but he isn’t sure if the slab’s fucked a guy before. Marco’s totally cool with being his first, but he doesn’t know what he should expect. Is the manslab gonna be any good, or will Marco be better off doing all the work himself? That’s probably the kind of thing they should have talked about before they got hard, but now Marco’s just gonna have to wing it. Fortunately, he’s good at winging shit.

Marco gets his hands under manslab’s shirt, feels how solid he is. And like, it’s nothing exceptional, Marco’s built like this too, but it’s still pretty nice. Manslab’s all accommodating, lifting his arm to get his shirt off. There’s a moment where his t-shirt’s obscuring his face, and his arms are flexing, and his chest is all nice and stuff; it’s a good look.

Marco presses his hips down, and Manslab presses back, that’s all good friction. Marco leans down to rub his face against Manslab’s chest. 

He should take off Manslab’s pants. The trail of hair disappearing into Manslab’s boxers is pretty damn interesting. Marco isn’t sure if he wants to suck the manslab, or just get fucked. Manslab’s got a lot of cock, which could be fun if he trusted the slab enough to fuck his mouth responsibly, to make him choke, but not too much; but they aren’t there, and are probably never gonna be. It’d just mean a sore jaw, and might make Manslab come sooner, which would be unfortunate. They should get on with the fucking.

But Marco should make sure that Manslab’s ok with there being two dicks before they do that. It’s time to take their pants off. He makes a move for Manslab’s crotch, undoes the button at the top, pulls down the zipper, slips his hand in. Manslab groans when Marco touches his cock, all low and manly, pretty damn hot.

Marco _is_ doing this for a reason. This isn’t just a dumb idea — it’s gonna be good sex. He touches Manslab’s cock, feeling how big it is, most of the way hard. It’s getting harder and bigger in his hand as he strokes the manslab over his boxers. They need to get their pants off right fucking now.

Marco gets up, off the bed, two feet on the floor. Manslab’s flushed and breathing heavily, which is a pretty good look on him. Marco does want this. It isn’t a good idea at all, but he wants it. It’s gonna be great.

“So, you need to get naked,” Marco says, trying to sound bossy, or dominant, or something. That isn’t necessarily his strong suit in bed, or life, but it seems needed here. It must work, cause the manslab’s pushing his pants down, boxers too, kicking them off the bed. He even reaches down and pulls off his socks. Neat. Now the manslab is naked on the bed in front of him, cock jutting out in front of his belly, toward the hard muscle of his chest. It's like a super awesome arrow pointing towards his thoroughly unexceptional face.

Marco smiles. This is going to be good. He walks over to his suitcase, grabs condoms and lube, and tosses them on the bed. They bounce when they hit the mattress, but they’re enough to make the bed bounce back, and Manslab’s dick moved a little bit with it. It’s kinda hot — honestly, Marco wouldn’t even be ashamed to admit it.

Marco strips fast. He doesn’t think the manslab has the faculties to appreciate a show, and he’s feeling impatient. He wants to get on with it. He wants to get that thing in him already. This is no time for lollygagging.

Marco gets back on the bed, kneeling over the manslab. Now, if this was someone he liked better, he’d kiss the dude, but eh. Something though — there should probably be some kind of preface between getting naked and starting to open himself up so he can take that thing. There should be a transition. Marco plants his hand on the manslab’s chest. He thinks about it for a second, then drags the callus of thumb across the manslab’s nipple. That gets him a smirk, but not much of a reaction. Good to know. 

What if he just goes for it? Like, that won’t be weird, that’s what they’re doing. They’re dudes, isn’t that the point, that they can skip the foreplay? (Marco does like making out, in the right situation. And cuddling is kinda great. He’s into bro cuddles sometimes, when Spurg puts up with it. But none of that matters right now.) Marco would feel a lot better skipping right to the fucking if he knew if the manslab had done this before.

Enough. Marco is just going to go for it, because like, it’s time. If he’s going to take that thing he’s going to need three fingers, which is more than he usually does. It’s bigger than any of the toys he regularly uses, it’s _a lot_ — which, like, that’s kind of the whole point. Some of it is that he’s suspended, so he doesn’t have to be so careful with his body. It’s an opportunity to make questionable choices. Some of it is that manslab scored his first goal in a game that he watched from the press box in a suit because he was suspended. But that’s just explaining the timing. It all comes down to the fact that the manslab has a nice big dick that Marco wants to try out. He doesn’t know why he’s stalling.

Manslab’s just staring up at him, mouth a little bit open. He’s waiting for Marco to do something, too timid to act on his own. Marco should get on with it, before the slab thinks he’s really weird.

Marco grabs the lube off the bed, squeezes some of it into his hand. He knows what he’s doing, he’s a fucking expert. He has practice. One finger goes easy, even though he isn’t being gentle, enjoying the slight burn. It gets comfortable fast though, and before long he can add another. Two fingers is easy too, and better, he can scissor his fingers, stretching himself, getting ready. Even after three fingers he’ll be feeling the manslab’s dick. He closes his eyes and concentrates on what he’s doing. When he opens them again manslab is staring at him, one hand slowly stroking his cock. Having all that attention on him is kind of hot?

He moans when he adds a third finger. He feels so full, already, it’s only going to get better. He’s going slow now, working his fingers in and out. He isn’t looking for his prostate. The point isn’t to make himself feel good, it’s to get ready to take that thing, which will feel great, eventually. He keeps going, fucking himself with three fingers until it feels completely comfortable. This is as good as it’s gonna get. It’s time to move on to the main event.

He tosses a condom at the manslab, who rolls it down his great long dick, and lubes himself up. Lube is really important for a thing like this. Marco is so grateful that he replaced the stash in his bag, it had been running low, and he definitely would have used it all tonight.

Now it's time. He is going to take the manslab's cock. It might be better on his stomach, or his knees, but he doesn't know if the slab is any good at fucking, so he wants to be on top. He’s going to ride that thing so fucking hard, it should be great. 

This is what he thinks about right before he starts getting that dick in him — it's the manslab's manslab. He almost cracks up, but fortunately it turns into a gasp as he bears down and starts feeling it. It's such a nice big dick. Long, and plumply round, without being too thick. Even just the tip is wider than his fingers had been. He keeps going though, wanting to power through the initial discomfort so it can start getting good. He gets his hand on his cock, giving himself a few strokes so he stays hard, adding more pleasure to the mix. It's such a big fucking dick. Marco knew that, but it's always so different to have it in him. It’s intense, he almost feels breathless with it now, feeling so stretched, so full. 

So full, so good, it’s easy to forget why this isn’t actually a good idea; it’s easy to pretend that this is a good decision. It feels good, that’s enough. Sure. Why not.

He just needs a moment to just take it, to feel the manslab’s dick in him, and his own hand on his cock, together putting him on the perfect edge of too fucking much. He takes a deep breath, exhales loudly.

He starts to move, just a little bit, rolling his hips, and feeling manslab’s dick shift inside him. He’s not moving a lot yet, easing himself into it, getting a nice little rhythm going. This is just the warm up. It’s already so good. He’s biting his lip, another twinge of sensation that’s good in its own right, as well as keeping them quiet. Spurg is across the hall, he isn’t sure who’s in the rooms on either side of them. He hadn’t been paying attention, he’d been scheming about how to get the manslab into his bed. It hadn’t taken much charm at all.

Marco should be flattered — all he needed to say was that he wanted the manslab to fuck him. That’s the most interesting conversation they’ve ever had. Low bar, but maybe this will be good for their relationship. Maybe it’ll bring them closer together. Maybe after this they’ll have _chemistry_. 

Yeah, probably not. 

This isn’t about anything else. This isn’t about teamwork, or suspensions, or anything — this is sex. Nothing else. Just sex. Good sex. 

The manslab’s starting to go for it, fucking up into him, which Marco’s happy to take. He’ll take it all, he wants everything, he wants manslab to make him take it.

He’s going to be sore tomorrow, and that’s excellent, he wants that. He wants to feel it now, and tomorrow, and maybe the day after. He’s so used to constantly being sore from playing games, and missing that has been weird. This won’t be the same, but it will be something. He’s healthy, and if he can’t be using his body for hockey, he should be using it for something.

Sex is a pretty good alternative.

He runs his hands up his chest, looking for something more, something different. He isn’t sure how he wants to touch himself. He’s looking for something more than just getting fucked, something nicer. It’s a shame the slab is so useless and he has to look after himself.

He gets his hand back on his dick, doesn’t go slow. He isn’t feeling patient. He’s feeling reckless. This whole thing is so fucking dumb, breaking his own rules, breaking common fucking sense. He doesn’t hook up with people he can’t avoid, and he can’t hook up with teammates, but here he is, with manslab’s dick in his ass, feeling so good, fitting just perfectly. Fuck the rules. What’s anyone gonna do about it? These rules only exist in his own head, for his own benefit, it’s not like he’s gonna get suspended or fined for throwing them out the window. There might be some consequences to deal with later on, but he can deal with that when it happens. Right now he’s just getting fucked. No regrets. Not yet anyway.

Maybe this is what they need. This will change things. Maybe after this him and Christian will be friends. That might be okay. Maybe that’s what’s been missing from Marco’s life — a boring friend with a big dick.

What Marco needs right now is to come. Manslab’s fucking him, and he’s matching the rhythm with his hand, jerking his dick kinda roughly, but so good. He teeters on the edge for a while, before toppling into the blur of too much perfect. 

And that’s it. He comes, and that was the whole reason he’s maybe fucking everything up: for good sex. Put it like that and it seems pretty stupid. No regrets though, not when he’s still shaking, and manslab’s still hard.

Yeah, Marco should do something about that, right? It’d be rude to leave the slab hanging. Ha. He’s maybe a little bit come-dumb, this is going to be _great._ He feels really good, and wishes he could kick Christian out right now, but that would be rude. Marco’s going to be better than that. Manslab scored his first goal, and now Marco’s going to show him a real good time.

First things first — he gets off of Manslab’s cock. He feels weird, empty, kind of uncomfortable. The stretch and the soreness is already starting to settle satisfyingly into his bones. He sits back on his heels, and now that dick is right in front of him to do something with.

He blinks at it.

It’s really big.

Giving head seems really ambitious. He could jerk the manslab off. He could have the manslab jerk off on him? That might be rude again.

The question: how little can he do before he kicks the manslab out of his room without being rude? He doesn’t want to be rude.

He is going to jerk the manslab off, with two hands, because one doesn’t seem like enough. He gets rid of the condom, chucking it towards the wastebasket, not checking to see if it goes in. He pours a bit more lube in his palm, making everything nice and slick. Manslab’s got his eyes closed. That’s good, that means it isn’t weird that Marco’s staring at his cock instead of his face. It really is a nice cock. Size and quality. Manslab’s not exactly a great lay, but he comes with some physical gifts to make up for it. And like, Marco didn’t really give him a chance to prove himself, maybe he has some skills he didn’t show tonight. Maybe he’d do better if they fucked again. Marco isn’t sure he’s curious enough to test that out.

It was good and all, but he’s probably better off buying a bigger dildo the next time he has those kind of urges. Although a dildo wouldn’t be warm like skin, and wouldn’t twitch when he touches it. The manslab’s all flushed red down his front, which isn’t a good look. Marco guesses he can be proud of getting the slab all worked up though. Manslab’s close, Marco can tell, and he definitely isn’t interested in teasing. He doesn’t have any desire to draw this out, he wants to sleep.

So he keeps jerking, working the manslab’s dick. The manslab’s saying his name, saying a lot of stuff, “Marco don’t stop, please, Marco, come on, come on,” which Marco could do without. It makes him feel bad for thinking of the manslab as the manslab. Christian’s a decent guy — he probably deserves better than whatever this is.

He wonders if this bad for his wrists? Probably not great, but not seriously bad, and he’s still out for another game, so it doesn’t matter that much. If he was playing, then maybe it would be a concern, but not now. 

The manslab comes. Marco can’t decide if he thinks it’s hot or ridiculous. Both really. That’s what sex is, generally, a balance between hot and stupid, all mixed in together. Objectively the slab’s orgasm is more silly looking than hot, but Marco still enjoys it. It feels like a very minor accomplishment.

Gold star for him: he got the manslab off. He reciprocated like a good buddy. A for effort. Affort? No, he’s pretty sure that’s wrong.

After coming the manslab goes all nonverbal and limp. Marco hopes it’s not going to be a real pain to get him out of here. He isn’t interested in _sleeping_ together. He can give the slab a few minutes of afterglow before getting things moving. That’s just common courtesy. 

He tries to be patient, but it isn’t long before he’s shoving at the manslab’s shoulder. “Hey, you should get going, otherwise your roomie will worry.”

Marco’s so happy that there’s an easy excuse to get rid of him.

Manslab grunts, but doesn’t move. Marco’s just about to poke him again when the slab groans, and sits up. 

“That was fucking great, dude,” the manslab says, just a hint of an accent. He is kind of cute, Marco supposes. He’d be cuter if he fixed his teeth. But that’s what Marco gets for fucking around with a hockey player. That’s always a bad idea. 

“Not so bad yourself,” Marco says, mostly not lying. “Pretty nice goal too.”

“Thanks,” Manslab says, easy enough, but he looks unsettled.

Marco really can’t let this lead to some sort of conversation about why this happened, if it was all about the goal, or if there were, like, god forbid _feelings_ , or something. It wasn’t either of those things. It was just a bad idea.

“We should be asleep already, with practice tomorrow,” Marco says, hoping that hurries the slab up.

He starts nodding, stands up, and goes searching for his clothes. Marco helps, just a little bit.

The slab is more interesting-looking naked. There’s no denying that. Marco isn’t disappointed to see the manslab get dressed, not considering the situation, but it definitely isn’t as good of a look. Oh well.

But now he’s all dressed, and standing by the door, ready to go. 

“This was nice,” Manslab says.

Marco nods, intervening before the slab can say anything more. 

“Yeah, it was special.” Special implies one-time-only. Hopefully special implies let’s never talk of this again. 

It still seems like the manslab wants to say something else. What the hell is there that could be said? Marco is so over this whole scene, it’s time for bed.

“Anyway, sweet dreams,” he says, heavy on the artificial sweetener.

Manslab nods, still seeming confused.

Marco opens the door for him, and he steps out.

Thank god that’s over.

Marco goes and lies down. It’s so good to be alone. He stretches over the bed, and thinks about tomorrow. There’s going to be a hard practice, well deserved after a bad game. Marco didn’t play in it, but he’s going to take the punishment anyway. He’ll feel sore skating after getting fucked. That will be good.

And afterwards, they’ll have a nice afternoon, sitting in the sun with Spurg. They need to soak up all the warmth they can before they get back to Minnesota.

Marco doesn’t know what anyone’s going to do for dinner — steakhouses are always popular on the road, but maybe something Southwestern while they’re down here? He can argue for variety at least, a bit of spice, instead of another hunk of meat — not that Marco’s got anything against those. That should be obvious after what he just did.

Fuck.

Having sex with Christian was almost certainly a horrible idea, but there’s nothing he can do about it now, just live with the consequences. Maybe there won’t be any? Maybe there could be a fine. He didn’t mind having to pay a fine. 

He just needs to fall asleep.

What’s done is done, and he enjoyed it well enough as it was happening. Now isn’t the time for regrets — it’s bed time. That’s very different.

He takes a deep breath, clearing his mind. There’s no point in worrying about mistakes that have already been made. He’s gotten good at being able to sleep alright even after shitty games, the same sort of mindset needs to be applied here. He repositions the pillows, and settles in better.

He just got fucked pretty damn good, and now he’s going to have a nice long sleep.

Boning the manslab really wasn’t all that bad of an idea.

Probably.

Time will tell.


End file.
